


Lost in Translation

by sapphose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Universal Translator, combining two of my favorite tropes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: Five times the Universal Translator didn't work for Julian Bashir and Elim Garak (and one time it wasn't necessary)
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 25
Kudos: 205





	Lost in Translation

1.) **Claustrophobia** : fear of confined spaces

When the turbolift juddered to a halt, replete with flickering lights and the ominous sound of grinding gears, Julian immediately turned his attention to the computer. When the uninterested female voice proclaimed the situation a _localized power surge of unknown origin_ , Julian’s hand flashed to the commbadge pinned to his chest.

Kira answered in Ops.

“The Chief says it’s a surprise from our Cardassian friends. Either the voles are chewing through circuitry, or Dukat and his cronies left behind a gift for us.”

Either was possible.

Miles offered no clarification.

“It’ll be fixed when it’s fixed, that’s all I can say. Ouch! Dammit, I’ve got to go.”

It was only after this series of unpromising communications that Julian remembered to look at Garak. And what he saw… surprised him.

“Garak? Are you all right?”

“Yes, Doctor, in fact, I’m wonderful. Now I have all the time I need to further explain my viewpoint on the failure of leadership in Snow White.”

But Garak did not look fine. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his shoulders were tensed and hunched, and it almost looked like he was…

“Are you sweating? I’ve never seen a Cardassian sweat before.”

“Cardassians emit a natural sheen when we’re about to win an argument. I’m surprised you never noticed it before.”

That was obviously a lie, and a bad one. Garak closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the turbolift wall.

“Your pulse seems elevated. Do you feel nausea, dizziness, tingling, or numbness?”

“Doctor.” Garak opened his eyes long enough to issue a scathing look. “I don’t need a medical examination.”

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“That last word didn’t translate.”

“Claustrophobia. Um, fear of tight, enclosed spaces. Like being confined in a turbolift.”

“We don’t have a word for it. It must be a weakness particular to humans.”

“It’s been observed in a number of species.”

Garak said nothing, which was possibly the most concerning symptom yet. Julian ran through possible treatments in his mind in case the discomfort became a full-fledged panic attack. A hypospray of an anti-anxiety medication could be effective, but, of course, all his tools were back in the infirmary.

It was unlikely Garak would be open to trying meditation or calming techniques for a problem he wouldn’t admit to having.

That left distraction.

“It’s interesting that it didn’t translate. I wonder how many medical terms don’t. What about halitosis?”

“Bad breath.”

“Migraine?”

“Intense headache.”

“Trimethylaminuria.”

Garak raised his eyebrow ridges.

“You made that one up,” he accused.

Julian did his best impression of Garak’s enigmatic smirk.

“Did I?”

Garak was saved the indignity of guessing when the turbolift came to life with a lurch.

One week later, Garak arrived at the lunch table triumphant.

“A metabolic disorder related to breaking down nitrogen. Unique to humans.”

That smile, Julian thought, was breathtaking.

2.) **petaQ** : insult of Klingon origin. Exact meaning unknown. May indicate a person who is weak, incompetent, useless, dishonorable, etc.

“Out of the way, _petaQ_!” The Klingon soldier growled as he shoved between Julian and Garak on their way to the replicators.

The two exchanged a glance.

“Such lovely manners, these Klingons,” Garak remarked in a pleasant voice. Upon seeing Julian’s frown, he added: “Don’t let it bother you, my dear Doctor. I’m sure Constable Odo will have something to say to him.”

“What? No, I’m not worried about that. It takes more than that to faze me. I just realized. I hear more Klingon than any other language on the station.”

“Even Bajoran?”

“That’s just it. I don’t hear Bajoran- I hear only the translation. But I _heard_ that Klingon call me… whatever it was he called me.”

“It didn’t sound very complimentary. Maybe the translator was trying to spare your feelings.”

“I wonder. Do you think the translator doesn’t know any Klingon swears or insults?” Julian mused.

“That might make for smoother diplomatic relations. It’s easier to forgive someone when you don’t know what they’ve said about you.”

“Or maybe they like to turn off expressive translation. Bajorans do it for prayers. And Jadzia did it when she first met Worf, so she could say something to him in Klingon without the rest of us understanding.”

“Knowing those two, I’m sure you’re better off not having heard.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious about it?”

“Excuse me,” came a low voice from behind them. Julian turned to see the vaguely familiar face of a Vulcan ensign. “Are you going to order?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Julian turned back to the replicator. “Two slices of larish pie.”

Taking care to use only his peripheral vision, he noticed the appreciative gleam of recognition in Garak’s eyes. _Good. Researching Cardassian delicacies was the right thing to do._

Balancing a plate in each hand as they began weaving their way to an empty table, Julian opened his mouth to continue speculating about selective translation, but closed it when he heard the same low voice muttering as they moved away.

“ _Tviokh_.” The word was unfamiliar, but the tone was unmistakable.

Maybe the translator ignored insults in more languages than just Klingon.

3.) **Idiom** : A phrase or expression with a figurative, non-literal meaning that cannot be determined from the conjoined meaning of its elements

“So what do you hear when I say… oh, I don’t know. Snowball’s chance in hell?”

“Zabu’s chance of finding regnar. It’s not an uncommon expression.”

“How about, er, hit the sack?”

“Fall asleep.”

“So the translator doesn’t always preserve the idiomatic nature. Hmm…” Julian drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I believe that translated directly. Penny is an archaic form of earth currency, yes?”

“Yes.”

“The translator usually leaves currency names intact.” Garak clucked his tongue. “What a rude phrase.”

“Rude?”

“A penny is a very small denomination, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“To say you’d only spend a penny on someone’s thoughts shows that you don’t particularly value their opinions.”

“That’s not what it means at all. It’s just a way of asking what’s on someone’s mind.”

“If you wanted to know about my mind, it would cost more than a penny,” Garak said dismissively.

Julian leaned forward.

“How much would it cost? Hypothetically. If someone did want to know what you were thinking.”

“It depends on the person. An enemy?”

“A friend.”

Garak’s appraising look made Julian shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“To begin with, another glass of kanar.”

Garak glanced at his empty glass meaningfully. Julian laughed, and lifted the bottle to refill. Language lessons in Quark’s hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

4.) **Boryha** **s** : Bajoran term for spirits of the dead

The Universal Translator malfunction was short-lived. In fact, it was only offline for about five minutes before a voice rang out through the public announcement system, talking about the effect of dampening fields on individual communication devices.

“Your Federation Standard is unusually good,” Julian observed.

“A tailor does need to be able to communicate with his clients,” Garak replied modestly.

“Of course.” _So does a spy._ “I bet you know Bajoran too.”

“As should you, Doctor, since we’re living on a Bajoran station.”

“I know some, but it’s mostly medical. Things like ‘where does it hurt’ or asking someone to breathe or cough so I can check their lungs. Nothing like whatever that man said.”

“What man?”

“You know, the one who walked behind you and spilled the drink.” Julian gestured vaguely at a point beyond Garak’s left shoulder. “He said something in Bajoran.”

“I didn’t catch it.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. You listen to everything. You’re always telling me what conversation people are having five tables away.”

“It would be rude to eavesdrop, if that’s what you’re implying. Body language can very revealing.”

“It was something like baleekum boraya.”

Garak sighed, and his face assumed a pained expression.

“ _Balikam bory_ _h_ _a_ , Doctor.”

“I _knew_ you heard it!”

“You need to practice your listening skills.”

Julian waved his hand airily. “You sound like Miles. So what’s it mean?”

“Why do you assume I know?”

“Like you said, you have to be able to communicate with your clients.”

“Roughly translated, it’s along the lines of ‘go away, ghost.’”

“Ghost?” Julian repeated, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve never heard a Cardassian called that before.”

“It must be unique to me. How is your I’danian spice pudding?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why is he calling you a ghost? Is it something to do with being a spy?”

“Really, not everything comes back to my supposed secret past. It’s almost as if you don’t trust me, Doctor.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“Good.” Garak steepled his fingers together. “A _boryha_ is a spirit that hasn’t properly gone on to the afterlife. It lingers instead. I believe he was referring to the fact that I haven’t moved on to Cardassia, and am still here, ‘haunting’ the station.”

“You don’t seem surprised that he called you that.”

“At least it was creative. They usually aren’t.”

“What aren’t?”

“Bajoran insults, Doctor, do keep up.”

“Hang on.” Julian held up his index finger. “How often are you hearing these insults?”

“I’m a Cardassian living among Bajorans. It’s to be expected.”

“I know, I just didn’t think...” Julian trailed off, keenly aware of how naive he sounded. There was no way to finish the sentence. The Bajorans were deeply traumatized by the occupation and Julian could understand why they didn’t want painful reminders of Cardassian presence. Yet he also deeply sympathized with Garak, forced to live among people who couldn’t accept him. Julian had known about the general discomfort and the pointed, hostile looks in the corridors, but he had never heard them given voice. Maybe they waited until he was out of earshot.

His sentence was accurate as it stood. _I just didn’t think_.

Julian tried to conjure up something to say (something better than _I’m sorry you have to deal with_ _that_ ), but the words felt hollow and stuck in his throat. Was there really any way to help Garak feel less isolated in a sea of potential enemies?

“Penny for your thoughts, Doctor?” Garak’s voice interrupted Julian’s reverie, and the use of the human idiom made him smile in spite of himself.

“It’s going to cost more than a penny today,” he replied.

“How much?”

Inspiration struck.

“Garak, how would you feel about teaching me Cardassian?”

5.) **z** **ahsehv’I** : Cardassian word for beautiful

“You, Doctor, are _zahsehv’I_.”

Julian pursed his lips thoughtfully. Garak’s face was indecipherable.

“You’re talking about me, I definitely understood that part.”

“Naturally. What did I say about you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t recognize any of the roots.”

“Unfortunate.”

“What do you mean, unfortunate? You’re the one teaching me. If I don’t know something, it’s your fault.”

“The attitude of a very poor student,” Garak admonished.

Julian furrowed his brow and concentrated. He had exceptional recall, courtesy of the genetic engineering, and he studied hard between their sessions in an effort to impress Garak. But try as he might to probe the recesses of his memory, nothing emerged.

“Garak, I really don’t think you taught me this one.”

“You’ll just have to figure it out.”

“You didn’t make it up, did you?”

“Did I? You can ask the computer, if you’d like.”

Julian stared into Garak’s eyes. A challenge. Well, he could handle that. Information about Cardassians was notoriously difficult to obtain, but a station full of Bajorans who survived the occupation had to have _someone_ who could translate a simple Cardassian word. That way he’d be able to brag to Garak that he hadn’t needed the Universal Translator for it.

Unless it was something that Garak knew Julian would be embarrassed by, if he knew, and that was part of the test? In which case it wouldn’t do to ask someone like Major Kira, who would never let him live it down.

Across the table, Garak stood.

“Do let me know when you figure it out,” he said, and turned to leave without waiting for a reply.

“I will, don’t worry!” Julian called after the retreating figure, aware that it was a weak response, and ignoring the curious eyes that turned to him.

 _zahsehv’I…_ It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

In the end, it was that difficult, but Julian was nothing if not persistent. A week later, he couldn’t keep the smugness out of his face.

“Beautiful,” he announced. “You think I’m beautiful.”

And oh, that smile really was breathtaking.

**+1**

“The technical term is penis, but, er, colloquially it’s also called a cock or prick…” Julian was rambling, and he knew it, but the words kept coming out. “That part is the shaft, and this is, um, the head…” His voice climbed up to a squeak, and he cleared his throat hurriedly. _I’m an idiot_ , he thought. _Who wants to sleep with_ _someone who starts babbling about_ _terminology_ _when they’re supposed to be sexy?_

To Julian’s relief, Garak did not walk away or roll his eyes. Instead, he watched thoughtfully, occasionally mouthing an unfamiliar word, tracing its shape with his lips.

Looking at Garak’s mouth was a mistake. Julian heard himself speaking even faster, the words “testicles” and “balls” tumbling out of his mouth almost on top of each other, until he finally stopped abruptly and bit down on his tongue before he could start talking about corpus spongiosum.

Garak smiled, and guided Julian’s hand between his legs.

“ _Ajan_ ,” he whispered, and smiled wider at Julian’s resulting shiver. “ _prUt_ … _irllun_...”

Garak purred Cardassian anatomy until their mouths met and there was no more room for spoken language. Their hands slid across each other, exploring, as they moved into the space beyond words, into the moans, sighs, and gasps that needed no translation.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Almost all words were based on information from Memory Alpha. The only exception is the word for beautiful (from the dictionary compiled at cardassianlanguage.tumblr.com), and the Cardassian anatomy (which I took from tinsnip's "Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology").


End file.
